


Christmas Calendar 2012

by Xobit



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate universe - Mafia, Gen, M/M, Mechpreg, Mirror Universe, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 18,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This year the Christmas Calendar will be all about inspiration! What inspires me about someone I know on here, and for the five Kiribans; what others think inspire me…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tales to tell a little one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: The winner of the first CC’ Kiriban Crossfire120576
> 
> Inspiration: [Knightformers - Manuscript](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/Tales-to-tell-a-little-one-340609962?q=gallery%3Axobit%2F40740999&qo=24#/d5jj33d)
> 
> Warning: Implied slash and mech lifebonds (marriage), implied mech preg, sparkling, knight’formers (different version from PurrV)
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

The sparkling was looking up at the tapestry, its large blue optics taking in the grand colors of the image. Predominantly green and orange, it stuck a tiny thump in its mouth and worried the second joint with its little dentals. 

“There you are! You little scraplet, you know you can’t run from me like that, your Creators would have a fit if they knew you had run off again!” its caretaker rushed over the flagplates, lifting his charge up and rubbed their olfactory ridges together affectionately. 

“What were you doing in here?” the sparkling twisted and pointed at the metal mesh tapestry, clicking excitedly. His caretaker finally looked at it and chuckled warmly. 

“Trust you to find a depiction of one of your Creators in the Prime’s palace, but okay, I will tell you the story, and you,” he teasingly tapped the tiny olfactory sensor with a finger tip, “will behave for me at the banquet tonight, deal?” chirping and nodding greeted his demand and his chuckling grew to full laughter. Turning back he crossed the cool golden flagplating again and settled on a bench that gave a good view of the colorful tapestry, and several others, settling the little sparkling in his lap.

“Once upon a time there was a young squire who worked for a knight known as Ultra Magnus,” the caretaker began, voice pitched to the cadence of storytelling. The sparkling sat in his lap, looking up at him with awed curiosity.

“The knight Ultra Magnus was the right hand of the Prime, Optimus, he was a fair knight, handsome and strong, a hard but fair taskmaster to his squire.”

“Then war came upon the Kingdom of Iaconia, knights were called to lead the armies of the Prime. And with the knights came their squires. Even the young one that Ultra Magnus had in his service.”

“It was a terrible war. It lasted for vorn upon vorn and almost tore our world apart. Iaconia suffered, Kanoria suffered. And as it went on more and more kingdoms got involved and they too suffered.”

“And then the Prime fell, a terrible wound almost taking his spark from this world and into the Well of the Allspark.” 

“The Matrix of Leadership was stolen and everyone despaired. But your Carrier heard and heeded the call of the Matrix, little scraplet,” the caretaker fell out of storytelling mode to tickle the sparkling’s abdominal plates for a moment, immediately rewarded by a cascading clicky giggle. 

“Yes, young squire Hot Rod heard the Matrix of Leadership and followed its call into the very depth of the badlands... There he fought the great dragongod Unicron and was chosen as heir to the Matrix itself. It gave him a new name, Rodimus Prime, and he Journeyed back to the palace in Iaconia where he gave the Matrix of Leadership back to the recovering Prime.”

“A great ceremony was held and in it Optimus Prime officially made Rodimus his heir, handing over the Matrix and the hammer of Defense.”  
“Optimus Prime stood tall, clad in red cape and loin cloth, right over there,” the caretaker pointed smiling down at his charge. 

“And the old Prime said the following words; Rodimus thou art worthy of bearing the Matrix! And of course your Carrier responded as he should; Primus help me bear this great burden,” the sparkling gurgled and clapped his little hands together. 

“Yes, he did! Your Carrier is the heir of Iaconia now, yes he is!” the sparkling shrieked with laughter when his caretaker tickled him again, little arms flailing in ineffectual defense. A much deeper rumbling chuckled mixed with high note of the sparkling’s voice. 

The caretaker jumped up, hugging the still laughing little one to his chest plates before bowing as low as he dared with his arms full. 

“M-my lord Prime, I apologize for being here I kno~,” he stopped when a blue hand was raised in negation.

“It is no trouble young one, you are the caretaker of the Heir’s little one?” the much larger predominantly blue and red mech kneeled by the minibot and reached out to gently touch a single finger to the rounded sparkling helmet. 

“Hello, little one, it’s been a while,” even so it seemed the sparkling seemed to recognize the most powerful mech in the kingdom. Or maybe it was just the friendly face plates, uncovered by the mask shown on the tapestry. Small arms were stretched up in a universally known demanding gesture of ‘pick me up’. 

The caretaker did not even think of denying the Prime when the great mech obeyed the sparkling. 

“You want to see the tapestry closer, hmm, little one?” the Prime strove over the flagplating with easy confidence and less than half the steps the minibot caretaker had needed. stopping in front of the tapestry he held the little sparkling up to it, keeping a careful grip on him. 

“See? That is I, that is the Matrix of Leadership and this is your Carrier,” his burden giggles and made little bubbling noises, clapping his little hands over the priceless mesh weaving. 

“Bumblebee?” the voice was somewhat sharp as it cut the air, a note of worry at the edges of it. The little caretaker jumped up from his seat for the second time, a franticly nervous expression on his face plates. 

“S-sir, in here,” the minibot called back. The Prime and the sparkling where still too entranced by their private moment of enjoyment to take any greater notice. 

A large green mech pushed through the half open double doors and stopped abruptly at the sight of his creation and the Prime. 

“Bumblebee?” the caretaker curtsied and then giggled a little at the sight, and sound, of the old and most powerful Prime made nonsense noises to an ecstatically giggling sparkling. 

“He ran away, m’lord, and I caught up with him here, staring at the tapestry of my lord Rodimus,” a helpless gesture and another giggle, “I told him the story and then the lord Prime arrived.” 

“Hmm... the little code breaker, just like his Carrier if you listen to Kup,” Springer watched for a moment, a smile making his dermas twitch. “I suppose we could let them have their moments.”

Minibot and triple changer, caretaker and knight, settled down and watched as the Prime showed the little still nameless sparkling every tapestry in the throne hall.


	2. A nice little science expedition...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: DarkShadeless
> 
> Inspiration: [Tumblr, NSFW](http://mamonnart.tumblr.com/post/33837742669/put-some-colour-on-it) and [Tumblr, NSFW](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7kmc0WdoX1qci2nyo1_400.jpg) and [Super cute, here on Deviant Art](http://evilwinnie.deviantart.com/art/TFP-S2-A-new-partner-302415578)
> 
> Tie in with; [Insect Monster](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/Insect-Monster-338595232?q=gallery%3Axobit%2F40284619&qo=1)
> 
> Warning: AU TFP, rewriting of CNA, non-con (both understood in the rape manner and a more than that manner), mating
> 
> Beta: AKzeal and all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

Just fascinating! The slim scientist bend further a clawed digit gently, ever so gently, poking at the unfamiliar organic fauna. Oh wait... no, flora? Yes, that was the word for it flora, fauna was all the organic beings his scanners picked up all around him. 

No less fascinating but the examples of fauna he had approached had tended to run, fly or squirm away from him. Or was too tiny to be examined without the aid of proper tools. His pod had not carried anything like that, only him and survival snacks for when it landed. 

There had to be energon on this planet or his pod would not have brought him here, it was set to ignore even worlds where other transformers were if there was not also energon present. Better he stay in stasis than he be a burden on others. 

As a scientist he was of little use when it came to fighting and what modifications he could do to weapons and power sources... well, hardly worth his daily ration of energon. 

So this world had to have energon in a form that his meager possession of tools could make viable for ingestion. Likely crystallized considering this was an organic world and organic material seldom did well with liquid energon. 

He stood back up and walked to his pod, retrieving his survival gear and stowing it away in his subspace as efficiently as was possible. The last thing to go in was the two packs of rations sarcastically known among soldiers as ‘energon goodies’.

Perceptor allowed himself a small tired huff before leaning in to push a button on the inside of the pod and then walked a few hundred meters away from it. Making sure that its destruction did not hurt the surrounding flora or fauna any more than he could help it.

Once he was sure it was all over he took out a small handheld scanning device and set it to scan for crystallized energon. With his small frame and low consumption rate, and barring any weather patterns, catastrophes, and possible hostiles wildlife interfering, he had energon goodies enough to sustain himself for a full rotation of this planetary body around its star. 

It was not a long time, but it should be enough to find the energon his pod picked up and begin the refining process. At least it was a relatively small world, with about eighty percent covered in water. Energon crystals seldom formed in water, so he was relatively sure he would find the raw fuel somewhere on land.

Surprisingly, he got the first positive reading within a quarter of a joor, faint but there. And when he found the place it showed clear signs of having been mined, though there was plenty left over. 

Perceptor immediately started to assemble his small solar powered converter and then started to collect shards. They were easy to find, and he could go into what had obviously been a mine at one point, when he had filled the converter with shards. It was not a big machine after all, meant for just one or two mechs.

* * *

_Intruder?_

The massive mech tilted his head and watched the little mech walk about, bend over. 

Oh yes, especially bend over. 

Hardshell had a breeder like this one. Not a very agreeable one but the tough old warrior kin had always liked the challenge of resistance. And it sounded like they enjoyed themselves whenever the nominal warrior leader got his breeder to submit. 

The delicate sleekness made Buzzclaw’s panel tighten, the red optic catching color with the black patches did not help him much with that. 

He carefully blocked the Hive collective, not wanting his discovery to be known. Most of the Hive was going back to their home on the Hive king’s ship but a few had been left behind to oversee the repair of the space bridge. 

Too much valuable energon here to loose entirely. Not to mention the possibility of more eggpods. So far on this world only warriors had hatched and the restless need to catch and mate breeders were nearly as strong as the need to obey the chosen Hive king. Now that there was peace... many had claimed those once called Eradicons, the rest of the mechs had been claimed too. Even the proud Starscream had been taken and changed. 

Unfortunately there were few breeders to choose from that were not the uniform of the former Eradicons... and while the little things were delicious, there was not one of them he wanted permanently. 

This little thing was absolutely delicious to watch! Would feel delicious under him... and that shiny red finish. 

If he had had the ability he would have challenged Hardshell for his Knock Out, but he was not that strong. 

And this one was certainly not simply second best...

* * *

Moving into the abandoned mine shaft slowly, he pondered the possible reasons for an apparently healthy vein of energon crystals to be abandoned. So far he had seen no signs of anything organic large enough to harm even a small Cybertronian. Of course... well the scanners of the pod had only told him there was energon nearby.

A survival pod could only do two things, save your life and get you to a safe place chosen from the parameters you programmed in before it sent you to stasis. His main concern had been energon...

For all he knew there could be something truly dangerous here. A virus, a creature, acid... but his scans showed nothing, and of all Cybertronians a xenologist had the best scanners and interpretation protocols in regards to alien environments. It could have been an outside force of course, or simply that they had filled their ships' holds with energon... maybe it had been nothing at all. 

Perceptor wandered the empty mine, finding vein after uncovered vein of raw energon crystals. More than enough to fuel him for mega vorn. Though he hoped it would not be that long till he saw any of his own kin again. 

He was getting an increasingly disturbing feeling of being watched, but apart from a few rocks dislodged by his weight and curious prodding nothing moved. when he stopped to listen nothing made a sound. 

It was creepy, but he dismissed it as best he could. He was a scientist! Logical and sensible not prone to... to...

“Argh!” he jumped when a stone unexpectedly fell from the wall before him. 

Maybe he was as prone to anxiety as anyone else... this was the first time he had been entirely alone on an expedition... and strictly speaking this was not an expedition. He was stranded on an unnamed world, with Primus knew what as companions, unable to call for help apart from the beacon his pod, hopefully, had put in orbit around the planet. 

He knew of mechs who had gone insane under the strain of loneliness... 

“Is anyone there?” not this fast though, he swallowed dryly and looked around. Maybe it was an aftereffect of prolonged stasis? He did not think so but... 

“Hello?”

* * *

It was tempting to simply flatten him and take, Buzzclaw had to rain the need to do so in. Yes he was that needy... no, he was not a mere beast! He could do this right, if not slow. All he needed was for the little one to meander his way into a spot with only one exit, a defensible place. 

Claiming a breeder was equal parts a question of dominating him and making him feel pleasure. No breeder was happy in the beginning, the change was overwhelming and the mating could be equally as overwhelming. 

He needed to keep him locked away until the change was over and his claim was stable. In a proper Hive he could have sealed him in his cell, here he would have to take what he could. 

Luckily the semi abandoned mine had lots of little hiding places that would fit nicely. 

Like the one the now overly nervous mech had just gone down.

* * *

Dead end. 

Perceptor shivered and stared a little blankly at the wall of raw energon crystal. A rich open vein, no work for him at all to mine. But the fact that he had walked into a dead end preoccupied his processor far more. 

Which was ridiculous! There were no one here with him... He turned and made to leave, if he kept being this para~“Ahh!” 

He backed up, back plate connecting with the wall, the scope on his shoulder jolting painfully at the impact. And he looked up, and up...

A monster, an orga... no, it was an Insecticon? Perceptor on and onlined his optics in a quick blink, confused and still both shocked and afraid. Insecticons were not known for gentleness, and what one of them did at an abandoned mine? 

Unfortunately he really knew very little of them, he was a Xenologist, not a mechnologist...

“Uh... nice m-mech?” the mandibles moved apart but he dared not even guess what expression that might denote. He was not prepared for the sibilant voice that answered, almost mockingly.

“Yesss, nice mech,” large clawed hands reached for him and he could only manage to get a strangled squeak out in response. Not that a scream would have helped any. 

To his surprise the clawed hands were gentle, exploratory, even a little bit... Knowing? The last part freaked him out and he attempted to batter the thick claws away. Even going so far as to try and scratch the Insecticon, who simply clicked in amusement. His claws were for manipulation of small objects, they were not weapons grade.

"Pretty little mech, all mine..." Perceptor cried out when he was lifted high and braced against the crystal energon wall. He was now face plates to mandibles with the much larger mech. 

A long glossa licked across his cheek plating and then down his neck, towards the shoulder where his scope was mounted. 

"No, no not th~ah!" the oral fluid slick glossa explored his scope with obvious intention, not one lens left without a sheen of fluid, not one joint, connection, port, or external sensory node left untouched. 

It left him burning and shuddering, fighting to keep his chassis under control. It was a moot point though when the Insecticon leaned against him and took the whole lens part of his scope into its mouth... 

No amount of control could withstand that sort of pleasure for long. A warm wash of static charge crawled from his plating to the Insecticon and returned to him far stronger. There was no helping what was about to happen.

* * *

Buzzclaw was deeply excited by the ready reaction to his attempted seduction. And the little one had even tried to claw him! It was so adorable and arousing that he hardly knew how to keep his arousal at bay. 

Letting go of the odd but oh so helpful modification on his breeder's shoulder, he knelt and buried his long glossa into the tangy flavored moist heat hidden between slim white thighs. 

It was the well! He would swear on it to any other mech... The sharp tingle of charge, the scream of ecstasy and the harsh gripping of the valve walls trying to milk his glossa for transfluid it could not deliver. Instead he released the nanobots that would change his breeder into a member of the hive collective before pulling his glossa out and laying the little one on the ground. 

Predictably he tried to get away, Buzzclaw pinned him down and pressed in as slowly as he could. Even so the pleasured moan had more than a little edge of pain. He stopped and returned to lavishing attention on the slim chassis until the valve loosened and he could feel more lubricant slicking his way. 

He was big for the little breeder...

* * *

Oh Primus... Oh Primus!

Perceptor clung on to his assailant possessor swimming between unexpected pleasure and outright fear. How could something that big feel so good? It should not be possible, he was sure to was not mathematically possible...

"Primus... M-move..." it was either that or he would split open, at least it felt that way. 

The Insecticon did not seem to have a concept of slow... At least not one that matched Perceptor's own.

It was probably good or he might have panicked during the seemingly unending sensation of being stretched as wide as the calipers in his valve walls could go. It should hurt so much more than it did, he did not want the mech after all...

* * *

Grey dermas pulled back to reveal sharp little fangs and sharp, no longer unharmful, claws were brandished. Buzzclaw clicked and moved out of the way obediently, letting his much smaller breeder have a go at the defeated challenger. Perceptor showed little mercy, claws raking close enough to the downed warrior's interface panel that he felt he had to pull the little one away.

He clicked soothingly even when he got his own set of claw marks down his arms. It reminded him of the first few orbs with his claim, Perceptor had not taken kindly to the change, the Hive collective or his own status as claimed breeder. 

"I want to rip his components out!" the frustrated little mech twisted and turned, angrily voicing several other nasty plans for the, by now, cowering warrior before them.

"He will not touch you again, you are mine," the words made the smaller mech settle, though he still grumbled angrily for a moment. 

"Get me to the lab," the order was imperious but Buzzclaw just stepped back and walked around his fallen hive mate, and proceeded to the lab.

You obeyed your breeder... Only the King could afford to overrule his Queen and that had its own price. Optimus was not one to pull punches anymore than Perceptor was.


	3. Winter hunting…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Aiuke
> 
> Inspiration: [KF Drift and Roddy](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/Winter-hunting-341049048?q=gallery%3Axobit%2F40740999&qo=22#/d5n0fyk)
> 
> Warning: Philosophical, melancholic… the feels 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

Rodimus was quiet for once, letting his turbohounds run unchecked in front of him as he waited just inside the garden gate. He was too old to be running off, and really he was not, he had told those that needed to know where he was going. The hooded sheethawk on his right arm shifted and made a small croaking noise, still not happy with having been roused out of sound sleep for a dawn hunt. 

He heard steps behind him, but did not move knowing the light tread too well. They had grown up together, Drift and he, trained together... fought together. 

If there was any mech he knew better than Drift he would be surprised, even his older brother was not this close to him. 

Another pair of turbohounds, smaller, lighter more like turbofoxes than his own, raced past him just before a hand touched his left shoulder pauldron. It was but a brush, but it sent the joy of companionship flaring in his very spark. 

He had missed Drift while the Prince of the eastern isles were back home. That was why they were here... 

Stepping forward Rodimus unlocked the door, letting the curious light of an early winter day filter though.

The snow was still falling gently, softening and obscuring sounds even the exuberant sounds of four tourbohounds playing in the deep snow. The world was white in gray in white and yet somehow bright. 

The cloud cover was softly grey, radiantly grey... the snow fell slow and gentle seeming to make the very air bright even as it also obscured sight. The ground, the trees... all and everything covered in a white, noise swallowing duvet of coldness. 

It was beyond lovely, and it was all theirs this orn, this light cycle. 

A hunting trip just for them, he smiled softly, the expression barely showing on his faceplates, dermas barely curving. He had learned much from his friend, the eastern prince. How to fight, how to control himself, how to hide the bubbling emotions inside him... He was not hiding now though, but the soft joy of companionship did not need shouts of joy or gales of laughter. 

He knew without turning to look that his own soft smile was mirrored on Drift’s dermas, the same soft light in slightly tilted blue optics. 

Not a word was spoken as they stepped into the snow blanket and made their way into the depths of the royal forest. 

Why speak when they both knew why they were there?

why take the silence out of the orn, when the silence, the familiarity, was what they both wanted?

Talk was not needed. 

Companionship was.


	4. Just Playing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: JazzTheTiger
> 
> Inspiration: [Dragonformers: TFP StarscreamxBulkhead](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/Just-Playing-341110376?q=gallery%3Axobit%2F40740999&qo=21#/d5cgx49)
> 
> Warning: AU TFP, dragons, implied slash, implied mechpreg, fluff
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

Sometimes he just had to get away from the flock. Bulkhead rolled over onto his back, wings tightly folded along his flanks.

The only bad part about this was that it was fantastically boring... he liked to talk to others. It was just that he sometimes needed someone else to listen to. He loved his flock, but they were virtually outcasts from the larger Autodragon flock and that put a hamper on many things. 

A shadow passed over the clearing and he rolled over and got up as fast as he could, scouting for the passing dragon. It might well simply be Bumblebee or Smokescreen being too curious for their own good again, but there was always the chance that it was one of the more... aggressive Deceptidragons. 

Only a moment later the dragon passed over him again and he relaxed a little, lying down again though he still kept his head up. Usually when they met out here, alone, the other would behave... after a fashion. 

After a few more showy flyovers the Deceptidragon landed on the other side of the clearing and stalked closer. 

Stalked was the right way to term it though it was not a hunter’s stalk, but rather that of a seducer. Bulkhead was somewhat amused. 

The Deceptidragon had not hidden his attraction, he did not think he was actually capable of hiding it, but this was... rather more showy than usual. And while the other was certainly a capable warrior, more than capable, he had another thing coming if he thought he would ever be the one on top. 

Bulkhead paused his thoughts and reviewed that concept. He was not going to mate with a Deceptidragon, was he? Even though he had to admit that Starscream was a beautiful dragon, all slender lines and great wingspan. 

He was also insufferable, stubborn, and a right backstabber. The last only seemed to count with his own flock leader, but Bulkhead knew to be careful and he was not going to be the bottom for a slip of a dragon not even massing half of what he did! 

His growl rumbled warningly, seemingly making the air vibrate with its deep tone. Starscream froze, and then changed his approach. Less confident swaggering and more slinking. 

But the interesting thing was that he was still approaching. 

For some reason he had thought his reminder that he would not just lie down and take it would have put the smaller dragon off his ideas. It did not seem so... 

He rose when the other came too near, wings unfurling a little to emphasize his bulk. Starscream trilled admiringly and walked under his nose, wings tilted so the vulnerable membranes and tips were up where he could easily snap at them. 

Bulkhead blinked at the odd and quite unexpected surrender. Submission from Starscream?

The tempting rump passed by under his nose and he had to exert some will to not turn and follow the still slinking Deceptidragon. 

He was not that easy though! With a huff and a shake of his wings he lied down, reclining on his side in a position of relaxed, mild interest. Honestly, while somewhat arousing he was right now mostly interested in how far the other would go in his flirting. 

After a couple of breems of carefully choreographed disinterest on Starscream’s part, and just as carefully feigned ignoring on his own part, the Deceptidragon approached again. 

This time he didn’t slink past, he gracefully inserted himself, on his back no less, right between Bulkhead’s massive forelegs. Bulkhead hummed curiously but did not do anything to discourage the interest. 

Starscream wiggled, trilled and stretched his neck to place a lick along the side of his mouth. Bulkhead tilted his head and glared down at him, though he suspected his question was quite obvious anyway.

‘Are you serious, Deceptidragon?’

A chortle and a much more intimate lick to his mouth answered that question. 

Hmm... 

Well, maybe a little fun wouldn’t hurt anyone...

* * *

‘tweep?’ Bulkhead huffed and nudged the too curious nestling back into the nest with his comparably massive nose. They were getting to be too big to keep in the nest, too much restless energy and curiosity to keep contained like this. 

It was a good thing there were a lot of the little eradicon dragons around to do the babysitting, a brood of fifteen nestlings would need two full time hunters to feed them. 

Starscream trilled at him, nudged another nestling back among his brethren and then rose to press close to Bulkhead. They nuzzled each other and nibbled at a few loose scales before the smaller dragon turned to go. 

Not his mate yet, his nest mate though... and soon more, he would make sure that their nestlings had a stable pair for parents. Both these and any more that would come. 

All in all he was happy that Optimus had listened to him when he argued for giving the larger flock a chance. Megatron had been a much harder sell... 

With the way he was opticking Optimus now though... 

Well breeding season tended to shift the power balance within a flock, and he for one would be only too happy for the security of having their flocks fully merge. 

And maybe, finally, someone would get Smokescreen egg heavy so the youngling would grow up!


	5. All that really matters…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Nnoca
> 
> Inspiration: [Tumblr](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_maweyongUj1r3zkygo1_1280.png)
> 
> Warning: AU MTMTE IDW comic, relationship, slash, philosophical musing
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

It was a secret. How could it not be with how things were? With how Cyclonus had acted, how he had acted... what he had chosen after a while.

Still, neither of them really wanted it to be a secret, it would not have had to be if things had been different. 

Tailgate took what he could get through, and endured all the things he wished were not there. Cyclonus never said as much but he knew it was the same for him. Endure, last, survive and in the end... 

Love happened.

* * *

“Tailgate,” his, the softness, the vulnerability... all his and only his. The side his serious, silent lover never gave to anyone else. He did not mind having to share the loyalty and the ambitions, as long as this was his. 

the touch of the clawed hands, the sensation of the thin derma plates. Tailgate groaned and bit his own lower derma plates, trying hard not to buck up into the sensation of the hot moist mouth. He had fallen so hard for Cyclonus but he had never suspected what he would be given in return. 

He had refused to give up fully even when the other had, figuratively speaking, handed him his skid plate. The only thing he had given up then was to become a Decepticon. 

In the end his stubborn endurance had led to Cyclonus acknowledging him. 

And then to this...

Cyconus was a loving mech, he had a soft side that even Tailgate had not suspected. And he loved to dote, whenever they were together he would make him feel like he was all that mattered in the world. 

He would talk of his dreams, his reasons for joining with the Decepticons. About his hopes for this warless future... this blind travel they were on. 

In private he was not the ruthless dominant he portrayed as being in public. 

Tailgate moaned when his spike was let go off, cool air seeming almost painful after the hot moistness of Cyclonus mouth. Still he welcomed the larger chassis straddling him, the shearing heat and wetness of the tight valve and he reached for his lover with both hands. 

No... Cyclonus was not as he had thought he would be. 

But this was so much better than anything his imagination could have ever come up with.


	6. Too old to play?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Kiriban 2# Won by Xevious-girl and given to glacierSCIENCE
> 
> Inspiration: The prompt ‘Bondage’ 
> 
> Warning: AU G1-ish (same as Octomonster, Robot and Alien from the Halloween challenge), war never happened, Wreckers happened differently, slash, 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“They look happy,” Xaaron smiled and looked after the young couple, one large mech, one small. Not unlike how they looked themselves. 

Impactor grunted noncommittally, busy attempting to concentrate on the two things filling most of his processor after two and a half joor as Xaaron’s ‘companion’ at the ‘gathering’. Protecting Xaaron and not giving away how affected he was by the constant vibrations from the toy in his valve. 

He was not a regular chassisguard, his job was not to protect the senator’s life but rather to protect the old mech’s frail chassis. Technically speaking he was not even a chassisguard by job description... He was the leader of a team known jokingly as the Wreckers, their formal title being somewhat more boring ‘Cybertronian defense and tactical resolution team one’. Basically they were the team that got sent to planets that Cybertron’s council wanted a good relationship with.

The Wreckers could do anything from blowing up a mountain, to build an infrastructure from scratch... 

The leader of said Wreckers could certainly get though four or so joor with a vibrator up his valve! At least he should be able to do so, by now Impactor was less sure of his capability of this than he had been when Xaaron had offered to ‘spice up’ the experience. 

It was very ‘spiced’, he could do with a little less of it now. Thank you, Primus?

“You are drifting, I thought you said you could do this,” Xaaron sipped from his cube, poise stiff as dictated by his old frail chassis. His movements slow, deliberate... Impactor drew in cool air and averted his gaze for a moment. 

“I was sure I could,” ‘I am not sure any more’. His main responsibility as Xaaron’s companion for the dark cycle was to keep him from being knocked over or otherwise harmed. HIs ability to do that job was getting... compromised. 

“You do not even know who the couple was, do you, Impactor?” a raised optical ridge and a slight quirk at the corner of a soft derma plate. Soft... 

Primus...

* * *

“Be a good mech, now...” Xaaron reached to tap the prone mech’s interface panel and it snapped back before he was even halfway there. He chuckled low and shook his helmet with a low sound of chastising. 

Apparently he had really managed to get to Impactor this time. He would have to remember, and make this so worth it that the much larger mech would agree to do it again. 

“Not yet, first we need to secure you,” stroking a single finger up the underside of the proudly straining spike he laughed again. He knew that his lover hated this part, not the restraints but the laying still until they were secured. That was why he drew it out even more than he needed to. 

Also, he knew his slow precise movements turned the powerful, brass mech on. He knew just about every trick that would get his friend, his lover, to burn. But he rarely used them, there was no reason to give everything away. 

“So the toy was too much for you?” securing the second hand he teasingly caressed the wrist joint gently, out of reach of the fingers that immediately clenched into a fist. There was a good reason for the restraints, apart from them being sexy as the Pit on the larger mech. Impactor had little self control when it came to pleasure, and he did not want any. 

Xaaron had no problem with that. 

Ending up back between the powerful legs he took his time exploring them from pede tip to pelvic joints. Touching, tasting... enjoying the straining of the powerful hydraulics and the frustrated, helplessly needy sounds from his lover. Finally he returned to the spike, painfully hard, tip weeping clear fluid. 

And the valve... still blocked by the online vibrator. Grinning he reached out and turned it up to full power. 

HIs reward was immediate, a roar from the other mech’s powerful engine, visible proof of the charge in his system and the graceful arch of silver transfluid as it was ejaculated from the too ready spike. 

The best though was the voice, the raw keen of his name. 

And maybe the fact that the spike did not deflate in any manner... Xaaron hummed hungrily and climbed up on his lover, pushing back till he could feel the hot spike against his aft. He leaned down to taste the transfluid. 

“I have a secret...” Impactor lifted his helmet a little, the only part of him he still had the freedom to move. Xaaron smiled again, glossa licking at the bars keeping his dermas eternally apart, and together. 

“Let me show you,” Shifting, slowly, he moved his pelvis forward until the prone mech had a good view of his interface panel, then he opened it. Pale lubricant seeped out around a toy that was the exact duplicate of the one in Impactor. 

“I had it in all dark cycle... a little before sun down even, mmm, it’s been on highest setting the entire time,” he tapped it, disengaging the magnetic lock, and pulled it out. Lubricant followed, painting the yellow band on Impactor’s armor with a sheen of purple pink. 

The powerful engine rumbled again and he smiled wickedly as he leaned forward readying to take a larger and far more fun ‘toy’ into use. 

“Am I still too old to play?” a rough growl sounded and he laughed. 

“You are a wily old buzzard, X~,” Xaaron paused, tisking and the larger mech made a sound very like a whimper, “ _master_! Master...” 

Much better...


	7. Recovery & Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Iloveop
> 
> Inspiration: [Knightformers: the wounded Prince](http://iloveop.deviantart.com/art/Knightformers-the-wounded-Prince-282313893) [Knightformers: Father's worry 1](http://iloveop.deviantart.com/art/Knightformers-Father-s-worry-1-282332504) and a continuation of this [Fate's Hour](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/Fated-Hour-332218745)
> 
> Warning: AU, knight’formers, eventually Megatron/Optimus
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

Arriving at Ion was less of a victory than Megatron would have thought. Bringing three offline knights and a severely wounded one still battling Unicron for his right to stay online was... not good. It could have been worse, they could have had four dead knights and no explanations. 

Now though, they could show the carcass of one of the Insecticons, and they could offer the families of the warriors some succour, knowing that their fallen loved ones were buried. 

Despite it all the great king Ultra Magnus refused to meet with him, citing no reason... 

But the castle of Ion had been in an uproar since the wounded knight had been taken from the wagon. _His_ knight... Megatron had been less than pleased, even though he acknowledged the necessity of a better treatment environment. The Knight was badly off.

He might still be lost. 

Still, there was the rest of the kingdom to think of. Iaconia was under attack from a very strange foe indeed. How could he help protect this kingdom, and his own empire, if he was not allowed an audience? He might be the ruler of his own empire, but that gave him little right to take over this kingdom... even for emergency action.

This kingdom was not his to protect.

* * *

“Mmm... t-thirsty,” someone held the rim of a goblet to his dermas and Optimus drank as much as he could manage before it was cruelly taken away. His tank roiled and even as he resented not being able to drink his fill he understood. And there was the faint acrid taste of medicine on his glossa now too, further explanation for the limited amount he was allowed. 

“Be still, prince, or I will call you a little brat like I used to!” the gruff voice made him relax at once, it had not been there in his fevered dreams. There had been others though, monsters and mechs. A deep voice speaking gentle words. A raspier one telling him to chew, to drink... 

“Ratchet?” had it all been dreams? 

“Yes, prince, it is I. Now rest! You are by no means healed... and when you are, you and I are going to have a long, _long_ talk about the sensible course of actions to take when bleeding to offlining!” the snap was so well known... Optimus could feel his own smile in a strangely distant manner and slowly drifted off again. Comforted by the familiarity of being home.

* * *

“Great king,” his voice tense Megatron still inclined his helmet in the traditional greeting, the slightly smaller mech mirrored him. 

“Emperor,” Ultra Magnus sounded about as tense as he was, and about as happy. 

“I trust you were told of our findings,” it was not a question, he respected the other too much to imply that he did not know how to rule. He just was not yet certain how far he could trust him, Iaconia and Kaon had been enemies for so long... 

“I was told, and I am now placed in a delicate situation,” one he was less than happy about. Megatron could see that, but could not figure out the reason for this ‘delicate’ situation. 

“As it is I am indebted to you as king, saving one of my knights, bringing the rest back for burial... And for giving the soldiers serving under them an appropriate burial of their own. Now though, I am also indebted to you for saving the life of my oldest Creation, he will live and he will be without any harm but for fading scars,” creation? Megatron stiffened, aware that his quest to gain the hand of the knight he had saved was now doubly hard, and doubly rewarding. A prince... the crown prince. Winning his hand would meld the kingdoms. 

“I am also indebted to you for heeding my call for aid, with our... peace so new,” indeed, new and dew fresh still. Megatron inclined his helmet again, graciously accepting the perceived debt and the subtle thank you. 

“It was my honor to come to your aid, great king, and my pleasure to have arrived in time to save your Creation... We have all prayed to the twins that a brave and skilled one such as he would have many vorn yet to live,” polite, polite... Megatron smiled pleasantly and masked the thoughts whirling in his processor. 

“A boon must still be paid, but come... let us talk of your adventures in arriving here over refueling,” they turned and went to the richly set table. Both still stiff and tense but likely for different reasons. Megatron speculated if the king had any idea of what he might ask for... or if it was having Kaonites in his castle that caused this... 

The meal was nevertheless exquisite and the king a good conversationalist who did not shy from the truth of the battlefield. 

They went over what his delegation had found, what might possibly cause the insecticons to attack, and attack those specific places. In the end though there simply was not enough information available of what the insecticon swarm might get out of attacking the shrines. 

And then...

“A boon has to be discussed, emperor, mech to mech if not king to emperor,” serious royal blue optics locked firmly on his, so like the ones his little knight had. Yes, he could see the resemblance. 

“I have little wish for riches, or titles,” he inclined his helmet, accepting the terms of this, “but mech to mech... I wish to be allowed to court your Creation,” behind him a servant dropped a tray, Megatron did not turn to look. He was still looking straight into the guarded blue optics of the king. 

“Courting?” he had clearly managed to shock the other ruler, perhaps precisely by emphasising that he was not speaking as emperor in this moment, but as a mech of Kaon. 

“Yes, great king,” Megatron inclined his helmet once again. 

“You are aware that by Iaconian custom he can deny you the right himself, boon or no boon?” the great king asked, serious and also... nervous?

“I am now, I will not fault the kingdom of Iaconia if he refuses me, nor will our newly won peace suffer from it,” Megatron paused and then let his shoulders drop a little, “how is he? What have your medics to say of his condition?”

* * *

“Morning, prince, rise and shine!” the bright, artificially so, voice sing songed into his audio receptor and Optimus groaned then whined when attempting to turn sent pain spasming though his chassis.

“Don’t be such an idiot, you know better!” but Ratchet’s hands were gentle despite his reprimand. 

“I like it better when you call me prince.”

“I’m sure you do,” Ratchet ignored him and started to check his patches and bandages. It was uncomfortable, but he knew better than to complain. ‘If you want to go hit someone with sharp things, expect them to hit back’, Ratchet’s words to him the first time he came in with a cut from weapons training. 

“Ratchet... how did I get home?” the question had been pressing to be asked, but he was for some odd reason unsure if he wanted the answer... 

“...” Ratchet ducked a little and then squared his shoulders, looking up with a serious expression and a weary twist to his dermas, “the emperor brought you in, they found you at the shrine...” he trailed off and his auqa optics dropped, pale and dimming. 

Optimus did not have to ask what that meant. They were all dead, including his knight partner Springarm. 

And somehow the emperor of Kaon had saved him... The world had turned upside down so very fast.


	8. Games you can play in an office…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Purrv
> 
> Inspiration: _Ultra Magnus/Optimus - Ultra Magnus loses a bet with another mech and has to get kinky with Optimus_
> 
> Warning: TFA/G1/IDW, slash, kinky bet, stuff?
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“Sir?” the bright red secretary questioned nervously, juggling his stack of reports with one arm. He had been at mid orn meal when the chief had come back from his inspection of the seventh precinct police station. Inspections rarely put Ultra Magnus, Altihex law enforcement chief general, into a good mood these orn what with the budget cuts and all that. 

Cliffjumper was not scared of his chief but he hated to dump further work on him when he was already struggling to make ends meet in a manner that would help protect the greatest number of mechs. 

“Ah... c-come in, Cliffjumper,” that had almost sounded... but no, Cliffjumper pushed the slightly disturbing thought away and pushed the door open with his shoulder pauldron. He almost paused again when he was greeted with a bright smile. 

Even on a good day Ultra Magnus rarely smiled at him. Usually he only smiled at Optronix... Cliffjumper curbed his suspicious nature and walked over to the desk, putting the stack of reports on the edge. He stood back far enough that he could look comfortably over the massive closed desk at his chief.

“A few things of note have happened in your absence, sir, if you will take my report?” Ultra Magnus preferred a verbal report from him when possible about happenings in the first precinct. 

“Of course, officer Cliffjumper, go ahead,” that was more normal, Ultra Magnus was a very formal mech. And one to follow protocol very strictly, Cliffjumper approved of that very much. He was himself a stickler for formality and proper conduct. 

Mostly... 

But no one knew about the times where he was not, apart from those that helped him with that little... kink. 

“The team you asked for, for the serial bank robber case, was finalized, with a minimum of fuzz I might add. The details are on pad number three in there,” he pointed to the stack of pads that Ultra Magnus had, oddly enough, yet to take, “and Goldbug’s team uncovered a new sending of Glitchdust. It is likely a decoy sending though, a dead end lead wise,” he stopped speaking, waiting for a comment... or for the larger mech to finally take the reports. 

Silence stretched. 

Cliffjumper fidgeted. 

“Ah yes! Of course, a decoy.... what mm, what about Officer Turnscrew?” Ultra Magnus shifted stiffly and Cliffjumper narrowed his optics. Something was most definitely off... But it really was not his right to _ask_.

“Officer Turnscrew... Sir, are you alright?” dimming optics were not a good sign, well unless it was your partner in berth but. Yes, not thinking that about one’s chief! But the way Ultra Magnus had his mouth open and the dimming and... darkening? 

Cliffjumper swallowed and dropped his optics to the broad chest plates, just... yeah. 

“I am fine, officer, please continue... continue your report,” one large white hand gestured and Cliffjumper huffed soundlessly before shaking himself back to the here and now. 

“Yes, sir, of course. Officer Turnscrew’s hearing went well, all forensic tests indicate that he only shot once, and all witnesses and surveillance show that he shot after the perpetrator of the robbery had shot at him three times. He’s not being charged for it,” a slow nod, very slow, was barely caught if not for the other mech’s chin briefly dipping into his field of vision.

“Uh... well, that was really all of note, sir...” he wanted to ask if he could go now, but felt that that would be a little too awkward. not to mention that he would sound like a sparkling wanting to be excused from the last meal table! 

He just felt really uncomfortable and out of place, something he was not used to feel like when at work... hardly ever actually even outside of work. 

“Mhmm...” a chance glanced up found very dark optics and a somewhat vacant expression, Cliffjumper stiffened and fixed his line of sight to the center chest seam. 

“You are dismissed,” Ultra Magnus almost mumbled, “T-thank you, Cliff~jumper,” Cliffjumper fled. 

Honestly there were just some things one did not want to know about one’s boss!

* * *

“You are very bad at this,” Optronix licked his dermas, looking up at his lover from between white thighs, “but you do taste good.” 

“Well, you are _good_ at this... do you think he caught on?” a slightly uncomfortable look came to Ultra Magnus optics, along with a taint of heat to his cheek plating. Optronix swallowed a giggle and pushed at the older, bigger mech’s legs to be let out from the somewhat cramped space under the desk. 

“I think he knew something was going on, but who cares?” he grinned and crawled into his lover’s lap, straddling him. 

“We won the bet, and I think we should celebrate! I know just what I want as victory prize too,” a blue hand snug down between their chassis and closed over the still pressurized spike.


	9. Accept the package deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: RuinedBloodShed
> 
> Inspiration: Ruined’s favorite OTThree ^^; 
> 
> Warning: G1 AU, threesome, implied dom/sub, implied slash, implied mechpreg, hinting at doorwinger trines... stuff?, continuation of [A Little Satisfaction... ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/572070)
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

"No?" Prowl's doorwings drooped and his expression turned passive, Jazz looked so _hurt_ for a moment before the proverbial shutters slammed shut. But it was not the customary laughing mask he showed this time; instead it was a cold, scary one. Blaster swallowed and huffed, stomping on the urge to huddle under two pairs of suddenly very cool stares.

He had thought this was all good fun. Why did they have to go and try to make it serious?

He offlined his optics and swallowed again, that was not fair of him. Yes, he had thought they were only playing with him... had not even consider anything more. Had not had to.

It was unfair of them to just spring such a question on him like this!

"You can't just expect me to say yes, Jazz, just because it is what you want... I want a bond one day, I want... but you are already a pair, and all we have had together is interfacing. Good interfacing I admit, the best even, but I have to think of my cassettes. Not to mention that you're officers and I am still just a specialist," harsh words but also the truth. He had a family to think of, one that Prowl and Jazz had not seemed interested in. 

How could he agree to something even semi permanent with someone who did not want his littles? No matter how good and loving they were to him he could not risk something like that. And he did need more than good berth partners... even if his libido disagreed. 

“Is’ not like ya have been much receptive to us being more than frag buddies,” Jazz’ dermas pressed together into a thin line after he delivered his say. 

“How could I be? We have pretty strict rules about officers and fraternization...” did he really need to remind the second and third in command about that? Blaster shook his helmet and crossed his arms over his tape deck. He hoped this would not wake Ramhorn and Rewind.

“As a specialist you are outside the normal command structure,” Prowl’s voice was unusually soft, even if his face plates still seemed cold and impersonal. His doorwings were still drooped and that bothered Blaster far more than he felt was fair... 

“And that’s why you chose to play with me?” Blaster shrugged, aware that he could not entirely hide the pain in his voice. He remembered what Prowl had said the first time, _we are not promising forever after, but we are not discounting the possibility of it either_. 

They had done nothing that indicated they wanted forever after... until now where Jazz had dropped the question like a bomb. 

_Be our third officially, our mate_. 

Oh he wanted, _wanted_ so much! They were everything he had ever wanted in a lover... and there were two of them. But he needed more than just good lovers, he needed someone who wanted to be co-Creators to younglings not their own. Someone able and willing to take on the responsibility of making more cassettes with him, some orn when his current ones needed to be upgraded. 

Jazz and Prowl could blow his processor, all right, but they had given no indication that they wanted or even understood his needs past those he had for being the bottom player. 

“Well fine! If that’s how ya see it there’s no point in this conversation!” Jazz threw his hands up and left, shocking Blaster with his abrupt tempter flare.

“He’ll be good again...” Prowl was still looking at him with that cool expression, helmet slightly tilted. 

“Courting you... would have to be through your cassettes?” Blaster was not sure if Prowl actually meant it as a question or not but he still shrugged uneasily and tried to answer as best he could.

“I am a tape deck, I need to have cassettes and if I bond I need for my bond mate, or mates, to... accept my current cassettes and to accept that more will eventually be needed. It’s just how it is...” another shrug. 

“Very well, I will go and see if I can cool Jazz down a little,” the second in command left too and Blaster felt... lonely. He had gotten so used to be able to go to them and have them come to him. 

It was hard to accept that it was just over all of a sudden.

* * *

“Rewind, where did you get that?” Blaster flung himself into a chair and looked at the older twin and the trivia game he was playing on his game pad. 

“Mmmm... Jazz,” the cassette alt youngling answered without even looking up from answering the questions on the screen. 

Jazz? Blaster sat up abruptly and looked around hopefully even though he knew it was a foolish action. It had been an earth month since their ‘break up’ and he still felt achy about it. 

“Where is Eject?” where were any of the rest of his younglings? 

“Recroom, Jazz’ watching a game with Eject an’ Prowl is talking to Steeljaw and Ramhorn about... ugh something with meditation or something,” Rewind shrugged, still not really paying attention to anything but his game pad. 

Blaster sat back, confused and... well, a little bit hopeful. 

Maybe this meant that Jazz and Prowl had meant their offer? Maybe... it at least showed that they had listened to him. That they were willing to... to try? 

“Thank you, Rewind,” he spoke belatedly but the cassette just shrugged again, optics glued to his new trivia game. 

One thing he could already see, the officers, his maybe lovers, had done their homework on how to woo his littles. 

And was that not the best indicator for their sincerity?


	10. Breaking though...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: TinyHeadBunny
> 
> Inspiration: [Happy Birthday Xobit](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/Breaking-though-342220636?q=gallery%3Axobit%2F40740999&qo=15#/d5c0ncr)
> 
> Warning: TFA AU, slave, Decepticons winning the war, slash, 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

It was becoming a game.

Optimus ran. He sent trackers after him and he was hauled back. He came up with some form of punishment and there would be relative peace for a groon or so... then it would start over. 

There was no reason for it, nothing to run to. Cybertron belonged to Megatron now, and with it every world that there was a space bridge to. After the first escape he had made sure every mech under his rule knew who Optimus was and whom he belonged to. 

And he had had a collar fashioned, marking his property as just that. Needless to say his pet had been less than pleased.

But the offer had been made, Optimus had a choice. He could be his pet, behave, as much as he could, be on a leash and be sneered at by those that knew little of what he was and had been to Megatron. Or he could become his mate. 

Truth be told Megatron almost regretted having given him the choice, it was truly torture to have the little mech with him and constantly be given the cold shoulder. 

He had tried everything, gifts, sweet talking, seduction. Even less savory things, like using the sleepy moments in the start of the light cycle to touch and explore... No, Megatron was no saint. He did not care for being one either, what he did care about was making his pet into his mate. 

His equal. 

Because this game was getting ridiculous. He had never considered that Optimus might stubbornly keep to his choice of being a pet. Not when he could see what Megatron was doing for Cybertron, how the citizens lived free, had names... lives. Were governed with an easier hand than they had been under the council. 

Basically he had done everything he had said he would do, every last promise fulfilled or on the verge of being fulfilled. 

Yet his desired mate still refused his attentions. 

Watching said desired mate be dragged up the center aisle to his throne, literally dragged, was getting old. His council and nobles refrained from commenting, though he saw the looks of disgust, confusion and overbearance. 

None of them understood. 

Optimus had the capacity to be his equal. He had proved so time and again by standing firm where countless others had fled or buckled at the challenge.

The moment the leash was handed over Optimus stopped struggling through the sullen frown stayed on his pretty pouty dermas. Megatron yanked him forward, making him stand at the side of the mesh draped throne. He had no idea how he would punish this latest escape attempt but he could at least start with not letting his _pet_ sit on his pillows or in his lap. 

Audiences picked up again, the mechs not used to the tableau of his rebellious pet looking uncomfortable as they approached. More importantly though his pet soon began to fidget, leaning on the armrest of the throne. 

Optimus was not used to stand around much and his pedes and leg joints were undoubtedly protesting the treatment ontop of his attempted escape and subsequent fighting on the way back after being caught. 

He did not reprimand the mech for leaning on the throne but the one time he tried to sit down he yanked on the leash rather harshly.

Eventually the smaller mech leaned over the armrest, trying to get his weight entirely off his joints and pedes. Megatron leaned back and let the smaller mech crawl halfway into his lap. The long shapely legs still hung over the throne armrest, idly kicking the air from time to time. 

Several sets of optics were drawn to the displayed aft and legs, Starscream was less than shy in his admiration. Megatron placed his hand on the small of Optimus back, a tacit warning to his former second in command. 

However his hand was quite big and ended up covering a good bit of the displayed aft plating too. Petition after petition, audience after audience... could he help that he began clicking his claws against the warm living metal? 

And when clicking turned to caressing... 

The squirming was rather hard to ignore. Of all the things he had attempted to do to the little former Autobot caressing his aft was not something he had given much attention apart from the occasional squeeze. 

He paid attention to the partitions but also began a much more... conscious exploration of the pert blue aft. Picking at seams with claw tips, caressing the smooth plating. When the little mech tried to squirm away he went so far as to lightly slap him.

The reaction was immediate and telling. Optimus stiffened, his venting picking up pace... and that had been a moan, a tiny one but still a moan. 

Megatron might have been able to let it go, but he did not want to!

“Out! All of you,” not one mech questioned the order and the throne room was empty in seconds. Even Starscream left with very little in the way of protesting... that was saying something for recalcitrant seeker, who even now enjoyed baiting him.

“So this is what you want, is it?” the smack was entirely too loud in the still room but the following moan was even louder and the small mech made a desperate attempt at getting away. 

“Oh no! You will stay right here and take your overdue punishment, Optimus... _pet_ ,” another, harder, smack and he was rewarded by a small buck. The armrest was in the way or he was sure he would have been able to feel the delicious heat of the blue interface panel against his leg plates. 

Moving forward in his seat he fixed that little problem and set to warming the pert aft with zealous intend. He was careful not to move it into abuse, or even too much pain, carefully monitoring the small mech’s reactions to every blow. 

Despite it all he was still surprised when the hot interface panel retracted and warm lubricant stained his thigh. He had known mechs with just about every kind of kink out there... he would have never connected spanking with the overly polite former Prime. 

But if it was what he craved... 

Slipping a finger into the soaking wet depth he laughed, a rough hungry sound. 

“Really, pet? All I had to do all along was get a little hands on with you...” he pressed in another finger and reveled in the cut off cry. Pleasure, and the former Prime was still fighting it as best he could. Silly little mech, too much pride in him. 

“I want to be inside you, with you riding me... I could smack this pretty little aft all you want if we did it that way,” Megatron moved his free hand to smack one aft cheek, still moving his fingers in and out slowly. The overload that answered him, like a bolt of lighting from a clear sky, was shocking and seemed powerful. Lubricant gushed out around his fingers, dripping onto his leg and the floor. 

Hmm... 

Perhaps a berth was the best idea of further exploration of this interesting development.


	11. What is a little mud…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Wachey
> 
> Inspiration: Wachey’s gallery, fully of cuteness, fluff and sparklings ;) (among other things)
> 
> Warning: G1 AU, fluff, cute, Christmas decoration
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“Hound?” Mirage leaned on the door jam and looked at the mess the tracker sat in the middle of. For once at least it was not dirt and organic things, but he did not know what it was... it seemed to be perfectly random things. 

There were a box filled with white glittery plastic granulate. Another box full of the action figures, which the humans had made of them all. There were plastic trees, a bucket full of a clear bluish liquid and in front of Hound was a big tray.

It was not entirely true that there was no dirt; Hound was in the process of putting a block of clay onto the tray. And right beside his hip was some big wax candles. 

“Hey, love, welcome back!” the greeting was as excited as ever but his lover’s blue optics never left the clay block as he places it, lifted it to replace it and then began to smooth it out. 

“Hound?” Mirage cooked his helmet, asking so much more this time.

“Sorry, I need to concentrate,” Hound retrieved another block of clay and placed it at one corner of the tray. 

“But what are you doing?” Mirage stepped inside the other’s quarters wearily and sat down on the other side of the tray. 

“Hmm? Oh, it’s a Christmas decoration,” the spy flickered his optics on and offline, before looking at the items in the different boxes again. 

Fake snow, fake evergreens, toy Cybertronians... 

“Where in the name of Primus is this going to be put?” it was not that he was against it... but really? 

“It’s for the local orphanage; we had all these toys that company sent us after we let them make action figures of us? They said on the news it was all the ‘rage’ whatever that means. So I asked Prime if we could not donate them to the kids, we already helped them this   
summer with that car wash thing,” another clay block was placed and then smoothed out. 

“Oh,” Mirage did remember, it had been a fun day and the little human sparklings, kids, had been so happy and playful. Hound had been even happier, and Mirage knew he visited the kids whenever he could. 

No sparkling had ever been parentless... Creating was too difficult for a sparkling not to be wanted and loved. Human sparklings were different, easy to create for many. It had been hard for them all to learn that human children were sometimes discarded as worthless by their Creators. Or that they might even be hated and abused. 

“Let me help you,” he took the new block of clay from Hound’s hands and their optics met for a moment. 

A dazzling smile was given and Mirage could not help smiling back, what was a little mud when it made his lover this happy?


	12. Rail and Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Kiriban 3# Won by AKZeal and given to DinobotLoki
> 
> Inspiration: Wasp/Bumblebee, with them being cuddly/cute in some way. Twisted is good too, or something, anything. Anything that your lovely, lovely muses will latch onto, pleases! (They did this, >.> )
> 
> Warning: TFA AU, fluff, implied moral issues, undercover agents
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“Was I too hard on you?” Bumblebee looked up though he could see only the glow of blue optics, a smile on his dermas at the warmth in his twin’s vocals. 

“Not too hard, but you know...” the small yellow mech shrugged and then huffed low when warm hands traced the outline of his shoulder pauldrons. This was not ideal, none of it was... but they had an assignment. 

“I know,” they both knew, intimately, the danger they were in. Twins had begun to go missing, rare as split sparks were it was so easy to see when they began to disappear. There were only one reason for that to happen, a well kept secret or so they had thought. 

Twin sparks, split sparks, were much easier to experiment on than single sparked, whole mechs. If you only did something to one twin the other would help stabilize the spark of the victim, effectively keeping both alive. 

There were those that remembered and those that wanted to prevent it from ever happening again. 

With the way society was now it was all too easy for the ones in power to explain away the disappearance of a couple of mechs, twins or not. After all everyone were just cogs in the great machines, right? 

“We have to hate each other,” Bumblebee sighed and leaned back against Wasp, finding comfort in the steady pulse of his spark and his warm field. Arms clasped him to the other, the unfamiliar green unseen in the dark. His color... and Wasp should have been blue. 

Rail and Cross, Bumblebee and Wasp. 

“Cross, I don’t want to lose you in there...” Bumblebee knew he slipped up, but he needed to say it. 

“‘Bee... _Rail_ , you won’t lose me! And you will be an Elite, you can work for Longarm Prime and you can figure out what they are doing,” the yellow mech made a sound, broken and low. He did not _want_ to. 

But they had to, he had to. 

“It’s not fair; we should all have run...” Bumblebee caught the warm arms against him, as if refusing to ever let them go. 

“We would have if they had not already taken so many,” Wasp’s voice was soft with pain. 

So many... and no way of knowing if they were on- or offline already. 

“I know.”

They stayed there in the dark, in silence. It was better not to speak; better just to remember who they really were before a new orn’s light forced them apart. 

Better to just be Rail and Cross for a little while...


	13. Memories of a hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Darkesong
> 
> Inspiration: Darkesong’s favorite OTP (as far as I know) ;)
> 
> Warning: depressive, fluff, winter
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“There you are,” Rodimus stepped out onto the roof ignoring the cold to join his lover. The leader of the wreckers seemed pensive, an odd mood for the usually boisterous mech. But then again, he had learned that there was a lot hidden in the triple changer. No doubt that his reputation as a wrecker was well earned, but there was a lot more to him than that. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the deep voice sounded so... contemplative. A grey hand gestured loosely at the icy wasteland spreading out around the outpost tower. 

In all honesty it was beautiful. Barren and cold, but beautiful... Blue ice peaked out from the snow, old ice. Rodimus was not sure what to answer though; he liked living worlds better, for all the beauty of this it was a dead world. 

“It is,” he settled for the truth. 

“You know... the scientists found old ruins under the ice. There was life here once, maybe created here or maybe visitors like us,” a shrug of massive shoulders, the pensiveness thick enough to cut. 

“I didn’t know, is that why you are out here?” it did not seem right to jest or tease. Rodimus had never seen the other like this. Sometimes serious, even deadly serious, angry, bitter... happy, joyful, in please. But this?

“No, I am out here... you know, I am not sure...” finally Springer turned from the vista to smile at him, a genuine bright smile if a little bit wistful. Rodimus was almost sure he was not being told the truth... he was not sure if he had the right to pry though. 

And yet...

“I have never seen you this pensive before?” stepping up to the other he slid under a heavy arm and huffed, the frigid wind stealing the fog of the ex-vent away in a second. 

“It’s just an old memory, Roddy, nothing else,” the larger mech echoed the ex-vent. 

“Of?” he risked pressing a little further. 

“Impactor,” a simple name, but it managed to make Rodimus as pensive as Springer was. He had never met the other mech... he wished he could have. Impactor had had such an impact on his lover, pun not intended. 

Maybe he would have understood Springer better if he had been able to talk to him...


	14. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Severiner
> 
> Inspiration: A bunny Severiner gave me long ago, it has been transformed but is hopefully still good!
> 
> Warning: kissing, optimism, abuse of Christmas traditions 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

"I do not like all this... decoration nonsense," Red Alert groused as Optimus passed by, the Prime doubted it was to him specifically though. Inferno was patiently helping his mate with the decorations, humming 'mhmm' and 'ahha's' as needed. It was no secret that the security officer was mighty annoyed with all the Christmas 'nonsense' every year. It was also no secret that he loved every bit of the glittery decor, happy singing and peaceful joy. No one told him everyone knew, how Inferno hid the knowledge for his bond mate was anyone's guess... If he bothered to hide it.

This celebration was so like the Festival of Sparks that they had all taken to it with gleeful joy. Optimus was no different from the rest of them, and he knew it. Humming a happy tune he carried his box of faux oversized greenery garlands towards the entrance of the Ark.

There was so much to celebrate this year. The truce... The peace negotiations, the completion of the new Ark and repair of the salvaged Nemesis. 

Going home. 

Especially the going home part. 

But first there was one last celebration. A last farewell to Earth and the humans who had helped them, a first party where the former Decepticons and former Autobots would be celebrating side by side. 

He did wonder what they would make of all the human decorations. All the little things they had picked up, adapted and adopted. 

Delivering the box to the rec room he stopped there for a few moments, listening to snippets of songs that Blaster and Jazz were 'arguing' about including on the party playlist. It was all so nice, so friendly and unworried. He could hardly remember a time from before the war where a party had felt like this... Much less the preparations for one.

So much giddy happiness and relief, hope and plans. Fitting in so many ways, they were after all launching New Year’s Eve.

-Prime, the D... Megatron is here, old habits die hard, but eventually they would die. And for now it was enough for him that his mechs caught and corrected themselves. 

-On my way, Sideswipe,- he left the rec room to the bustle of decorating and the friendly arguments about music.

Heading to the entrance of the Ark he noted with some amusement that someone had hung mistletoe in basically every doorway. The little green plants a subtle streak of deference against the generic orange. 

It was less amusing when he arrived at the entrance and found Megatron under the mistletoe decoration, scowling at the laughing twins. And his own sniggering former army. 

"Prime, mind telling me what is wrong with your..." he paused, seemed unable to find a substitute for soldier and ended up gesturing to the hooting twins. He was studiously ignoring his own mechs. 

"If you step out from under the mistletoe, I would be happy to discuss the theoretical sanity of our various... Underlings," he sent a good natured glare at the twins way. They were doing nothing wrong but neither were they actually helping any. 

"Mistletoe," the grey mech followed his glance up and saw the tiny plants. A momentary flicker of red optics told Optimus he was looking for the significance of them. He was not prepared for the smirk that curled the thin dermas when those same optics dropped back down to meet his.

"Why, Optimus, after this long... I would not have thought you a coward in anything," all laughter died around them but Optimus did not bother to look at the undoubtedly shocked, surprised and anticipatory expressions. He did not intend to back down from the challenge though.

"I merely thought you would prefer a less... Spectacular arrival," stepping up to the other he retracted his battle mask, reveling in being able to do so, and smirked back.

"You look younger than I expected," Megatron had never seen him without his mask... Optimus shook his helmet and leans in to deliver a chaste kiss. 

Strong arms locked around his shoulders, grey helmet tilted a little and suddenly there was nothing chaste or fast about the kiss at all...


	15. My lost lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Dreamchaos
> 
> Inspiration: An oldish collaboration with Darkesong
> 
> Warning: AU TFA, metal self mutilation, hacking
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

"I know what you did to yourself," the one opticked mech commented calmly, walking around the medical berth again.

His captive did not answer, blue optics serious but seemingly devoid of feeling... Not even habited by a speck of fear. But he had not expected fear, or even recognition. He knew what Perceptor had done to himself, but not to what extent. Not how much of himself the mech had sacrificed in the name of science. 

How many memories... 

Some things he could restore, but other things were beyond his power. His poor once-lover... what stigmas had he not had to endure among his peers for having been betrothed to some mech who turned Decepticon. 

To him. 

Poor Perceptor. But his lover had always been smart, and they had talked at length in those orns up to the rebellion and the war. No, it had not taken his once-lover by surprise and perhaps... perhaps he had done as they had discussed. 

It was a long shot, he knew that. Perceptor had served the Autobots faithfully and well. Project Omega was amble proof of that! Yet... Yet shockwave could not help but hope that his Perceptor might still be in there somewhere.

The Perceptor that had agreed to some, if not all, the things that Megatron had spoken out against. The mech that had advocated for a more peaceful, slower revolution... but had still agreed that a revolution was needed. 

"I am sorry," sending the small mech offline with as gentle a touch as he could use he found and connected to the cranial unit medical ports. Immediately he was met with formidable firewalls. His beloved had always been good at protecting himself that at least had not changed 

Out of pure nostalgia he reached out with their code and touched them, as he had once been used to do. It was a shock, and a welcome hope inspiring surprise, when the firewalls fell as if he had hacked though them. 

It could still be a trap... or it could mean everything he hoped it meant. 

And he began to doubt that he actually knew what Perceptor had done to himself. If the mech had done what so many had whispered when he was working disguised as Longarm Prime. 

Carefully moving though lines of code and stored memories he searched for an indication, anything he could recognize... hoping, daring to dream.

And then he found it. 

It looked like a simple corrupt sector of memory, but he knew better then to be fooled. Reaching out he touched it with the same code that had felled the firewalls so easily...

* * *

Softly glowing blue optics came online, hazy and unfocused. A small sound, like a moan or a whimper left slightly swollen grey dermas. Slowly the optics gained focus and a smile formed.

"Shockwave," the voice was so well known; much more pleasant than the voice he had heard the past many vorn as Longarm Prime. 

"Beloved," he almost wished he could smile back. 

"It's been so long..." the purple Decepticon nodded, chassis slumping a little in relief. 

His Perceptor. 

He knew he would find a way to survive and return to him...


	16. Forbidden longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Fluffah
> 
> Inspiration: In this case the need to write something about ‘longing’ ^^; and TFA because Fluffah likes it ;)
> 
> Warning: TFA AU, slash, masturbation, obsession?, longing for forbidden things
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

"Little Autobot," Megatron muttered to himself, watching the screens before his throne. They all showed the same thing, videos and stills of the little Prime who had become his obsession since having regained his chassis. 

Few mechs had thwarted his plans as many times as this one, fewer still were still online to brag about it. This one did not brag, he did not even act like it was a particular special thing... 

Optimus, Optimus Prime. The only thing to ever get under his plating was to 'forget' his name. And Megatron fund himself to taunt the little slip of a mech time and time again, just to see that little flair of anger bloom. See those pretty blue optics blaze for a moment... Hear the burr of anger in the snapped out 'I have a name'. 

It was something other than the passionless duty, or the tired resignation, which seemed to be his usual expression. 

What he would not give to see true passion in the blue optics. A carefree smile on the plump dermas, hear laughter from the so pleasant vocals. 

Or even better, sultry smiles, heady moans...

See those dermas wrapped around his spike, his finger. See the blue gaze hazed over with lust and pleasure; hear his name moaned out during the peak of overload. 

Megatron shifted in his throne, panel uncomfortably tight. 

On one of the live feed video screens the Prime entered his personal quarters and sprawled out on his makeshift berth. 

A dark glossa ran over thin grey dermas, a perfect echo of the light silver one running over plump light blue ones on one of the looping recordings. 

But now Megatron only had optics for the screen showing the young mech running his blue hands over his red chest. Only processor for bemoaning that he had no sound to go with the delicious visual of his obsession playing his own chassis. 

Wishing he could hear the sweet moans, and know who the mech was calling for. If it was him... If there were perhaps an echoing need in his young nemesis.

* * *

Optimus turned over and pressed his face plates into his hands. His vents were still running flat out but the overload had barely helped on his heat... 

He wished it was so easy to hide his shame and embarrassment, that it could be taken away by the overloads he was forced to reach for. But no... 

It was always like that; he waited too long and had to... do it multiple times. 

Slowly his hand returned to the apex of his legs, fingers easily slipping into his ready valve, erect spike pressed at against his abdominal plating. One more... just...

"Uhh... M-Megatron..."


	17. A reason to make war…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Murr-miay
> 
> Inspiration: Murr-miay’s favorite pairing is Megatron/Optimus and recently she told me she had a craving for some TF Prime inspired stuff. 
> 
> Warning: TFP, AU, Slash, torture, unwilling Prime, sparkling killing
> 
> Beta: no one ^^;

"Megatronus," laughter bubbled in the voice of the smaller mech and he held up the yellow box like it was a hard to win trophy. In a manner of speaking it was and Megatronus found himself smiling back, giddy amusement bubbling up from his vey spark.

This dark cycle... On this very orn. 

Around them the city of Kaon would be awash in high grade and song, the festival of Sparks celebrated by one and all. But they would be here, together, having their own private celebration. 

The high grade was already decanted; Ice Fire from Vos and Searust from Helix, and Orion had manage to secure sweets from the La Confection. 

"Hey, love," Orion kissed his cheek plating, mockingly chaste, and Megatronus growled playfully, catching him about his narrow waist to give him a proper hungry kiss.

To night there would be no hiding, no holding back.

"Let's go inside, the table is set," Orion giggled at his eagerness but complied. The table was a large tray on their shared berth and his lover added the sweets to it with a flourish. All set...

"You are sure that you are ready?" one moment of seriousness before they continued their plans, he could afford it. Rather that than loose Orion. 

"I'm sure, come here," the smaller mech tugged him down and kissed him passionately before pulling away again, "I want this, I love you, I will always love you!"

Another kiss and then they were on the berth, fuel and sweets momentarily forgotten in the favor of passion and love. 

Orion was so much smaller than him yet he always welcomed him so perfectly. Tight wet heat, eager rocking into his thrusts. Even the very first time, with all its discomfort and pain, had he been welcomed with eager abandon. 

"Stop... T-thinking, uh..." Megatronus could not help but laugh at the breathless demand, but he complied. Turning his processor to the task of pleasing and pleasuring his lover.

Eventually they got to the fuel, momentarily pleasure sated and in need of energy. After the first cube of high grade though, fueling turned into play, which turned into more love making. 

Sometime during that dark cycle chest plates cycled open for the first time and horse moans became raw cries of pleasure. Love making became merging, sharing... soul binding.

* * *

"No... No!" but his cries were not heard, the rendering of a spark bond and termination of the sparklet going ignored as the Matrix of Leadership was put into his chest by his spark... Over his spark, to replace what had just been lost. By that time Orion was mercifully offline from pain and shock both...

Megatronus though... he was leaning on his best friends shoulder, horrified at the warning and the pain his once mate had given him.

Lost... They had lost the bond, the little one... 

How could the council do such a thing?


	18. Even the best kept Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Kiriban 4# Won by Xevious-girl
> 
> Inspiration: Megatron/Rumble/Frenzy- Solace in a cave in
> 
> Warning: Fluff, fear of the dark… uh… yeah? 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

The whimpering was annoying, his processor ached too much for the sound to be ignored and he growled angrily. Some weak Autobot was in here, crying for his Prime to come save him. Figured he would be so lucky. 

“Shut your vocalizer, weakling!” he could not move to silence the whimpering himself, but he refused listening to it! 

The sounds died down and he leaned back again, optics offline to the darkness of the tight space and the dim visual of his caught legs. Caught, not crushed... he hoped. The pain sensors had shut off so he could not feel anything. 

“L-lord Megatron?” the voice was much closer and not the same as the one that had whimpered, but it was most definitely one he knew. 

“Frenzy, is your master here?” he hoped not, if Soundwave was caught down here it might be a long time till they were dug out. 

“No... uh, n-no he is... he is outside somewhere, l-lord,” the drone did not sound like himself at all. The cassettes never did sound much like drones but this was... worse. The thing sounded frightened, stammering like a little sparkling afraid of monsters under the berth. 

With the cassette deck outside they would be dug out, likely fast too with two of his drones in jeopardy. For all that he was loyal he was insanely protective of the little cassettes, almost to the point of it being too much. 

Mumbling picked up, distressed and obviously attempted to be pitched low enough to prevent him from hearing anything and yet he did catch a few words. ‘-safe with-’ ‘no, no, no!’ ‘Megatron’s-’ ‘-but ’tor said-’.

‘tor?

“Frenzy, come here!” the muttering stopped as if he had cut through the sound with a vibroblade. For a long moment nothing happened, and then shuffling was heard, as well as a few quickly muted whimpers of pain.

When he finally caught sight of small red optics there were two sets, and one of them were dim with pain. Two drones, except... 

“Is that your brother with you?” 

“Y-year, Rumble’s hurt rea~ uh, I mean...” both sets of optics flared bright with fear and the little ones scrambled back. 

“Come here,” his tone brooked no argument and even though they could not see it he stretched out his hand, palm up to them. Why had Soundwave never told him this? Were all of them sparklings or was it only the two little mechlings? 

They were reluctant but eventually they came to him, too conditioned to obey, or too afraid to deny him. He was gentle when he picked them up, worrying at the injuries to the purple mechling and not wanting to frighten them further. 

He could do little about the injury but keep them against his plating, offering the comfort of his sparks pulsing and the heat his armor gave off. 

After a while both of them dozed off...

* * *

He stood up, grateful that his legs had simply been caught, refusing the ‘helpful’ attempts to take the two little curled up burdens he was carrying. Instead he strode forward, and deposited them in Soundwave’s arms.

“We need to have a talk!” with that he turned to direct the rest of the assembled Decepticons.


	19. Clipped Wings, Mended Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Dellessanna
> 
> Inspiration: Dellessanna’s favorite threesome is Jazz/Prowl/Thundercracker
> 
> Warning: implied character death, implied mech-preg, implied semi-forced bonding, threesome 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“If you don’t want him to offline you had better figure out how to keep him from going there!” Ratchet was snarling, it was not unusual to have the medic angry or grumpy, but this was more than that. He was infuriated, gesturing harshly and glaring death at the second and third in command. “I am _not_ going to try and keep him online for you! It would be worse than torture, worse than... worse than anything any Decepticon ever lowered himself to do!”

“We merely asked if he could survive the loss of his trine somehow, Ratchet,” Jazz stepped forward, holding his hands up, palms out and empty, in an attempt to placate the other. Neither he nor Prowl had expected the explosive reaction to such a simple question. 

“There are ways to keep someone online after a bond mate’s death, most of them I won’t _touch_ ,” the growl was back, warning them of even asking further, “and the one surefire way to keep someone alive is to replace the mate or mates lost. But who here would bond a Decepticon? No matter that he wasn’t really one, they all know him as one,” Ratchet looked tired as he leaned on the medical berth. 

Tired, sad and weary. 

Prowl felt like that, and he knew that Jazz was just as badly off. After all this time neither of them had thought that Megatron would, or even could, figure out that his second in command was a plant. 

Though uncountable vorn of war he had not even suspected and then suddenly... 

Jazz was still not himself, he had checked everything again, again and again, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong, who could have talked. 

Prowl was not sure if he should mention that he did not think anything had gone wrong. Starscream had played his role too well. All too well and for some reason Megatron had finally broken and decided to be rid of him. 

It had to be that. 

No one was gloating among the ‘Cons, in fact they seemed to be in shock, the whole lot of them. Just like the Autobots were. 

“So if we replace the others, he’ll live?” Jazz pressed, taking a step further forward, “does it have to be to fliers?” 

“No, it can be anyone... it will still take him vorn to recover. He might never want to fly again,” Ratchet’s voice broke, his vocalizer spitting static. 

Prowl knew what Jazz would suggest the moment his lover turned to him. They had been talking about it, and... didn’t he deserve it? Vorn of flawless service in the most dangerous job any mech could be asked to fill... 

“Don’t ask,” the sharp intake of air and pained pinch of Jazz’s dermas was all that told of his disappointment. Prowl shook his helmet minutely and looked to Ratchet. 

“How do we do it?”

“What?” Ratchet looked up, an incredulous expression on his weary face. 

“How do we take their place?” Prowl asked patiently. It would be worth it, even if it was not the bond they had planned for... It would be worth it, he could see it in the way Jazz dermas curled in a tired smile and feel it as a black hand grasped one of his, squeezing it with gratitude.

“You would?” Ratchet glanced from Prowl to Jazz and back, then pushed himself upright. “Right, come over here, the both of you, the sooner the better! Just crawl up, you’ll need to be close to him.”

* * *

~You can do it,~ the soft words encouraged him to spread his wing panels against the cool wind. He looked over his shoulder and smiled weakly at his bond mates and the four sparklings who were all watching him closely. 

Figured Jazz would not be able to keep away from him at this time. 

He turned back to the drop off and contemplated the changes that had all happened so fast after the... His thoughts faltered and his vents hitched, immediately warm support and love flowed over the bond.

The war was over, his for~, former trine’s murderer was offline. It was past time to heal fully! Past time to do this again... 

~You don’t have to if you are not ready,~ Prowl voice was somber even over the bond, but it was not discouraging at all. Those two were so different from... from _them_ , but they meant just as much. 

He would do this, he _needed_ to do this... 

For Prowl, Jazz and their littles, two of whom were seekerlings. 

For himself...

For Skywarp, and for Starscream.

Thundercracker vented harshly and ignited his thrusters, jumping as he had learned so long ago. Giving himself up to the wind and the flight.


	20. Weaknesses...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Rocklight-Tippers
> 
> Inspiration: A kitty fic we never posted… ^^; and a wonderful fic of Rocklight-Tippers which is I think posted on her LiveJournal account…
> 
> Warning: silly, candy, Jazz and Prowl un-slashy interactions… mostly… 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“So...” the blue visor tilted at him made his doorwings twitch, nothing but a minute movement but he knew that it had been seen. Seen and filed away, Jazz would be his doom one orn with all the intel he had gathered on him. 

“I do not have time for games, yours or anyone else’s!” he tried to regain control of his data pad only to have the other mech yank it out of his hold. 

“Now, Prowler, you can’t do something like that and not expect me to go diggin’!” Jazz’ grin said it all, he was not going to let this lie. Why in the world had he agreed to attend that party again?

A better question; why had he not checked that none of the illegal, and highly potent, ‘homebrew’ high grade had managed to get into the supply set aside for the party? 

Because even he was stupid once in awhile. 

“And why can I not expect you to not go digging? Don’t call me Prowler,” the last was added as a dry afterthought to what could only be called a burst of temperamental sarcasm. Primus, why! Just why? He could practically see how Jazz’ level of interest rose, it must be near going through the roof now... 

“I make it my business to know everything about everyone, its in my coding... Prowler,” he knew that smirk.

“You do not need to know about this!” he should not drop mentioning his abbreviated name but he was honestly too agitated to care. Which would of course make certain that Jazz would not drop it... How he sometimes hated knowing what would happen, or at least being able to calculate it. 

“It’s a potential weakness in our tactician and second in command,” he was sure the white optics under the blue visor would be innocently wide and earnest. For once he wished to smash it, just to be able to see all of the expressions that Jazz had. 

“I am not _weak_ ,” suddenly realizing that there were no other noise than his own laboring cooling fans he looked about. He was standing, leaning forward... practically shouting at Jazz. Fragging... clenching his hands into fists he took a moment to center himself and then he snatched the datapad from Jazz’ lax fingers.

“Leave it be, Jazz, it is a private indulgence, nothing more,” with that he left, trying hard to ignore the curious stares.

* * *

Four earthen orn after the incident he was still getting strange looks when mechs passed him in the corridors. Prowl huffed soundlessly and keyed open the door to his quarters. He really should not let Jazz get to him, nothing good ever came of it. 

Half a step inside he knew someone had hacked the lock and been there. The box on his desk was a dead giveaway. 

Jazz.

He huffed again and stepped entirely inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Not that it seemed to have any actual use, but at least it kept Sideswipe and the other pranksters’ way. Everyone but Jazz. 

On top of the box was a datapad and he took it, turning it on with a tired annoyed flick of his doorwings.

_Hi Prowler,_

_This is a peace offering, despite what it might look like._

_Jazz_

Hm... he took the lid off the box muttered a curse at the content. 

Of course. 

Not even one secret was he allowed to have. Morosely dropping to the berth he took one of the gooey gelled energon candies and sucked it into his mouth. 

At least the plague of his life had managed to find his favorite flavor too...


	21. The Schism of Hatred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: AKZeal
> 
> Inspiration: A pairing he gave me; Shockwave/Cyclonus
> 
> Warning: Philosophical musing… 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

They were so very similar. Cold, logical, strictly controlled. 

And yet so very different. 

One had a strict moral code that he somehow managed to uphold in the midst of debauchery, senseless killing and under the rule of someone who had gone completely insane while attempting to follow his cause to the very end. He was still somehow loyal... Programming? It might be, or there might be something else in play.

The other had rejected all that was moral and ethical in his pursuit of logic. Anything that would further the cause was allowable... even wanted. It was after all only logical. To the point where he was loyal only to the idea of the cause, not the leader who was changed, spiraling into irretrievable madness. 

Neither was truly wrong or truly right, in the name of the cause, and the leader, they both did terrible things. And both did good things. Saving others, inventing cures... one as a warrior and one as a scientist. 

There are rarely only one side to things, and it is dependant entirely on the optics doing the observing. 

To the Autobot’s they were terrors, nightfluxes... any mech among that faction dreaded being caught by one of them, killed by one of them. Slow or fast, it was not the matter of how, but of who. 

To the Decepticons they were idols. Some feared them, some hated them, some wanted them. the premises among them were different than among Autobots. Love was never mentioned, admiration kept well hidden. One wanted their jobs, to be them, or to own them. 

Monsters to some, heroes to others. In the same faction but opposed for all their similarities. 

Cyclonus the warrior served his lord and master, Galvatron. He served him, he saved him. Even from himself when the madness got too bad. 

Shockwave the scientist served the cause. That was the only thing important and anything could be sacrificed if it meant reaching the goal, lives, leaders, resources. 

The one illogical thing both mech could agree on was their hatred for each other...


	22. A Lack of Choice...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: DinobotLoki
> 
> Inspiration: DinobotLoki likes Dinobots, I can’t write Dinobots T.T
> 
> Warning: sadness... lots of it, AU G1ish, 
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“Do you think it was wise of us?” Ratchet hunched his shoulders and put down the laser scalpel he had been using. 

“That is not a fair question, ‘Jack, we had precious little choice...” warm arms wrapped around his middle and the inventor's front pressed against his back. It was less than four human hours since they presented the ‘reinvented’ dinobots to the Autobots. 

It had, he supposed, gone as well as it could. Unlike the Decepticons he had little experience in putting sparklings into adult chassis. And only utmost need had made him attempt it. Despite the faith that every Autobot put in him, he was not a miracle worker and this time he had partially failed. All five had survived, but the containment fields on their spark chambers were unstable at best... would kill them at worst. 

Lack of the proper tools, the proper metals... 

But he could not blame it all on that, he simply did not have the skills. Sparklings had never been his area of expertise. 

“You are not allowed to be miserable alone,” Wheeljack’s voice was sad, pained. 

“Why not?” but he knew the answer and was already relaxing despite not wanting to.

“We made the decision, _we_ , Ratchet, not you, not I... us! You won’t allow me to be depressed over it, I won’t allow you to be depressed over it. There is still more than sixty percent chance of them surviving...” the words were murmured against his neck and he nodded slowly in response. 

Positive, it was a matter of staying positive. If you did not think about the fact that they would have to sent the littles into battles armed with faulty programming... No, except for that fact, their chances were actually better than the chances of any sparkling but the noble born ones had had just before the war. 

“We did not know the containment field would be damaged, if you had not thought to check we would have lost them all, and we can’t tell anyone... you know we can’t!” Ratchet huffed and relaxed fully. No they could not tell anyone, the sparklings were not supposed to have been on the Ark, but Shatter and Fracture had begged. The Ark had been the only place where there had been a spark suspension facility advanced enough to preserve new sparks. 

“They are alive; we will do all we can to keep them alive... that was what we promised to do, was it not?” 

That was all they had promised, and they would do their very best for the little ones.


	23. Sweets for the Sweet…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: Dendey
> 
> Inspiration: I was going to do Dendey’s favorite pairing… but it would not work for me so you get Megatron/Starscream instead
> 
> Warning: TFP AU, SG TFP AU, confused TFP Megatron, chipper Christmasy mood SG TFP Starscream
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“Starscream!” Megatron’s voice cut through the din of noise in the Eradicon rec room like an energon blade though light grade armor. Everything thing went completely quiet except for the somewhat off key singing drifting through the rough doorway that had been cut into the wall beside the energon dispenser. 

After a few moments the assembled Eradicons began to mutter nervously, restlessly shifting but clearly not sure if they should try and run or stand and take whatever punishment might come their way. 

The whole half groon had been... odd. 

First that had been that ground bridge accident with Starscream. 

That had been a good thing! All in all, having a caring, intelligent, brightly colored and always cheerful second in command had a very positive effect on everyone. Even on Megatron, who had seemed completely unable to figure out what to do with the flittery happy creature he suddenly had snuggling up to him. 

Literally snuggling up. 

He had been sure that it was a cover up for something, and Soundwave’s report from a breem or so ago had only confirmed him in his thoughts. what good could Soundwave be up to with almost a third of the Nemesis contingent of Eradicons? 

This however was not what he had thought he would find upon entering the rec room. 

“Oh dear! I did not know you would come, my darling!” and there was the culprit of it all, smudged with faintly glowing gel energon of different colors and holding a tray piled high with... goodies?

Megatron felt his processor start to stall and immediately took his main logic circuitry offline. 

“What are you doing, Starscream?” other than the obvious ‘making goodies for your army, darling!’, but Megatron was aware that he might not get anything but that. 

“Why, christmas goody baking of course, and all these nice mechs are helping me test tates them!” the brightly delivered answer left Megatron gapping. The Eradicons twitched and shuffled, the amount of free space around the doorway and Megatron himself doubling in a matter of seconds. 

“Now, run along, dear, it is supposed to be a secret for tomorrow,” Starscream gave his tray to a random eradicon and went to turn and then push Megatron out of the door. Outside the seeker tip peded and pecked his dermas before giggling coquettishly. “I promise it will be worth the wait, dear, and I really hope you’ll forgive me whatever you are so mad at me for!” his second in command disappeared back into the rec room, a jaunty unfamiliar bounce to his heeled steps. 

Megatron had never in all his long vorn of life felt more shellshocked. But he supposed he would get some answers in the orn to come. At the current rate he was not sure if he did not want it to be some elaborate assassination attempt... at least _that_ would be logical.


	24. Bleeding out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: LTUAE-42
> 
> Inspiration: LTUAE-42 said that she; I have especially liked murr-miay's stuff, so can I ask for Megatron and Optimus (TF:A) as the characters, with the prompt being "mafia war"? and I took further inspiration from these ;) by :devmurr-miay: [Mafia](http://murr-miay.deviantart.com/art/Mafia-335041276) and [Suit looking good on you](http://murr-miay.deviantart.com/art/Suit-looking-good-on-you-319444836)
> 
> Warning: TFA AU, mentions of death, bleeding and violence, slash hints, stuff
> 
> Beta: AKzeal and all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

This had not been the plan. Not that he had had an actual plan, how could he when he had not even known that being transferred here would land him in this mess. Optimus pressed his hand against the gunshot wound in his shoulder wishing for a medic and cursing under his breath. 

Wedged into a corner where two buildings met, behind a big transport vehicle, he was basically screwed. His comm. was blocked by something that made it sizzle and pop with static, and he could not stop the sluggish flow of energon from his leg. His shoulder was fine on that account at least; his self repair had shut the lines affected down. It meant his arm was next to useless but at least it was not bleeding. His leg though... the cut was deep and it had torn the lines. For some reason his self repair had only been able to shut off some of the lines... he could not walk on it, and the sluggish flow was slowly draining him. 

The events leading up to this were frightening to contemplate, there was something seriously wrong here when the bad guys were the ones you could trust. 

Neither his leg wound nor his shoulder wound had been given by the ‘bad guys’, after all. Optimus studiously did not look to his right, tank still churning uneasily at the vision of the grayed out shell of his former partner. In his, admittedly not super long, career as a law enforcement mech he had only had to kill a mech three times before. All of those had been threatening someone else and none of them had been his partner...

You were supposed to be able to trust your partner... but Flipside had lived up to his name and he had had little choice if he wanted to live. And he did want to live.

His thoughts were rambling, probably a sign that his fuel levels were getting dangerously low. No more emergency rations though, nothing actually useful to do either... could hardly keep a hold of his gun now. It was heavy, so heavy and in the end a useless evil thing. 

To do good, to protect, that was all he had ever wanted, he had thought he could do that here. But Iacon had proved to be a place where nothing was as it seemed. The rich did not care about the poor, the merchants were worse thieves than the actual thieves, most of which only resorted to stealing because they would otherwise starve to death. 

He should have stayed in Altihex, provincial or not he had at least known what was good and what was bad there. Or maybe he should have listened to the Don. 

_“Don’t let this city eat you, once you’ve had your fill of excitement come to Kaon, I’ll employ you well. Or go back home, if the taste of the capital city has taken away your lust for adventure.”_

A small smile curled the light blue dermas and Optimus let himself imagine that the dangerous mech had actually leaned down and kissed him. Ever since he literally landed in the Don’s lap he had been strangely attracted to him. Mafia or not, coming from Kaon or not... Iacon had its own nests of cypervipers and they were the rulers of the white city. He thought that Kaon might just be better; at least it was honest about what it was... 

And Don Megatron might just be worth giving up his badge for. 

There was no longer any honor in wearing it after all, and his own honor was smudged _by_ wearing it here in this city, where law enforcement mechs were apparently for hire by anyone, worse bullies than the gangs and nastier than any mafia family had ever heard about. 

But maybe that was all the energon loss talking again. 

“What have you done to yourself, little enforcer?” definitely the energon loss, tilting his helmet back to look up, more like it lolled back uselessly, he smiled up at the tall, tall, tall dying dream vision. At least it was a pleasant vision to go offline to, the Don was very handsome. 

“Cha! I told you to get out of here before the city ate you,” the vision kneeled down and lifted him and Optimus snuggled in as well as he could, muttering garbled nonsense into the soft mesh fabric of the expensive dark suit. 

“Silly little enforcer,” affection, and a hint of possessiveness. Optimus was too far gone to hear or care, sliding ever deeper into unconsciousness. Unaware of being carried by Megatron to the Don’s personal skimmer.


	25. Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Calendar Present for: glacierSCIENCE
> 
> Inspiration: [Double the Trouble](http://xobit.deviantart.com/art/Growing-Up-344751668?q=gallery%3Axobit%2F40740999&qo=0#/d2rv8hr) found in glacierSCIENCE’s Favorites gallery ;)
> 
> Warning: G1 AU, hints at twincest, mild slash,
> 
> Beta: all the nice people of the GoogleDoc session

“So?” Frenzy had his arms crossed over his chest plates, looking at Rumble who was still turning in front of the mirror. 

“‘So’ what?” Rumble replied unhelpfully, though he finally turned away from the mirror entirely to look at his black and red brother. One purple hand landed on a purple hip and his grin spoke of him knowing precisely what the other wanted from him. 

Frenzy pouted, and then smirked at his twin. Rumble had looked forward to this upgrade just as much as he had. Grounder frames, frontliner frames. Soundwave had not been entirely pleased with their choice but they were more than old enough to choose for themselves. 

“Are we gonna do it or what?” the black and red twin shifted impatiently, sprawling back with his legs apart and hanging over the edge of the berth. 

“Now? Like this?” Rumble walked over to loom over his annoyed twin, laughter in his voice. 

“Now, next orn, in a vorn, does it matter? Are we gonna do it?” Frenzy glared up at his purple twin, annoyed and amused in turn. They could feel each other after all and they were both impatient and scared of this particular subject. Frenzy tended to want things he was nervous about to be over fast... Rumble wanted to postpone them. 

“Yeah, we are gonna do it, but not this dark cycle. ‘Tor will offline us personally if we show up with scuffed paint and dented plating to our Upgrade party,” Frenzy took the offered hand and let his twin haul him up from the berth. He did not expect to be pulled into a hug or the slightly awkward kiss that followed. 

Neither of them expected the flair of heat that blossomed between them, the strong fast pulsing of their sparks and the pull they felt, standing chest plates to chest plates.

They pulled apart fast, staring at each other with wide optics, cooling fans whirring loudly. 

“Yeah...” Frenzy’s voice shook a little, “not this dark cycle, l-let’s go...” he grabbed his twin’s hand and pulled him out the door. 

Both of them knew they couldn’t run from the need to bond forever, but maybe it was okay to stay mechlings for a little while longer...


End file.
